


I'm in love with my car

by Adrenaline_Roulette



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Easy A References, F/M, Hand Jobs, Sex in a Car, Shameless Smut, Smut, it's a metaphor Brian, roger loves his car, so much smut why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 05:58:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenaline_Roulette/pseuds/Adrenaline_Roulette
Summary: We all know Roger Taylor is in love with his car, but who is the song really about? Who do the metaphor's relate back to?"I’ve only just convinced myself not to walk back to London to see you after realising how long it would take me.”“You were going to walk back to London, just to see me?"“The thought did occur to me.”





	I'm in love with my car

**Author's Note:**

> So I've fallen down a rabbit hole of writing Queen fics, and I currently see no way of escaping. Anyways, this idea would not leave me alone, I start a new job in the morning and instead of sleeping, I'm writing this... I was watching Easy A so that's basically where this entire plot came from!  
> Once again, this is unbetaed, and was written by a very sleepy me, so I apologise if at any point it doesn't make sense!  
> As always, constructive criticism is appreciated, and if you would like me to write something for you involving one of the Queen/ Borhap boys, just drop me a comment!  
> Peace and Love.

“It’s just a bit weird Roger, what exactly are you doing with that car?”  
Roger scowls as Deaky grins at him from across the kitchen counter, a light shrug of his shoulders indicating an end to the conversation. Roger knew they wouldn’t understand the song, how could they? None of them knew Porsche the way he did. Turning on his heel, he storms out of the kitchen, making his way towards the phone. Brian, Freddie, John and himself had all been told to only use the phone in case of an emergency, something to do with no outside distractions, or something along those lines, but in this moment, Roger couldn’t care less, he had to talk to you, had to see you.

 

 The shrill ring of the phone wakes you from your slumber, you lift your hand and rub at your eyes, your mascara smearing over your face in the process. “I’ll answer it!” Your flatmate Courtney yells from the kitchen, as you listen to her feet stomping through the apartment.

“I need to talk to Porsche.” Comes the masculine voice from the other end of the phone. Courtney frowns for a moment, not quite knowing how to respond to the request of the caller.

“I’m sorry, who is this and who do you want to talk to?”

There’s a frustrated groan down the line, and Courtney contemplates hanging up. “It’s Roger, I need to talk to Porsche…. Y/N.” The voice states, as she nods along to what he is saying.

“Right, Roger. Sorry about that, been a long time since I’ve heard anyone call Y/N, Porsche.” She laughs, before pulling the receiver away from her face. “Y/N! Phone’s for you!” She bellows, as you pad your way into the sitting room, where she holds the phone out towards you.

“Thanks.” You yawn out, shuffling you sock clad feet against the wooden floorboards. “Hello?”

“Porsche!” Your breath hitches in your throat as you hear the all too familiar voice. You hadn’t heard from Roger in months, not since he told you he was going away.

That was how it always was between the two of you. You had met in College, he’d heard about your reputation, and had sought you out one day after a particularly nasty break up with one of his many flings.

_Your reputation was one you were glad to have left behind in college. You weren’t entirely sure how it had started, but you became known as the go to girl if you needed some, TLC… The nickname Porsche, stemmed from the fact that you owned a green Porsche at the time, and that was where you took your classmates when they needed you. You would drive to somewhere quiet, make them forget about all their worries for an hour or two, then take them back to campus. Always expecting some form of tip as thanks._

_The first time Roger had called on your services, it was the week before winter break. He found you in the college library, studying your textbooks in hopes of cramming as much as you could, before you forgot it all over the break. He sat himself down in front of you, resting his arms on the wooden table you were set up at. The conversation was brief, he explained how he had heard about you, from one of his good mates Tim Staffell. You smiled at the familiar name, then packed up your belongings. Within the hour, you had Roger moaning your name in the back of your Porsche. As the years went on, less people came to you for your services, and you hardly minded that fact, though Roger remained a constant visitor, and even became a friend. He would invite you to his band’s gigs, and you would go whenever possible, with most nights ending in the back of your car, or his van._

_The last time you had seen Roger, he had picked you up for a change and drove you both to your old college. It was an odd place to be, seeing as neither of you had attended the campus in a couple of years. Though it was deserted, so it was perfect for you. After screwing each other until Roger couldn’t remember the argument he had had with Freddie, you both sat on the hood of his car, smoking a shared cigarette._

_“We’re going away for a bit.” Roger sighed, blowing smoke up towards the night sky. “The band that is. We’ll be in Wales, recording our new album.”_

_You nod your head as you listen to his words, smiling across at him. “That’s great news Rog!” You grin, as you rest your head against his shoulder, feeling him move to look down at you. You smile up at him, and he returns it._

_“I’ve written a song about you. Sort of. It’s kind of a metaphor type thing, but I’m hoping it’ll be put on the album.” He blushed, brushing the hair away from your sweaty forehead._

_You can’t help the warmth that grows inside your chest at his words, blush rising up your cheeks. “How long until I see you again?”_

_“I’m honestly not sure. We’re going to Wales, and all management has told us, is that we’re there until the album is finished. So, it all depends on how long that will take.” He sighs, lighting up a new smoke._

_You bite down on your lower lip, struggling to find the right words for what you want to say. “Do you think, when you get back, that maybe I could see you again. Under different circumstances?”_

_Roger’s eyebrows raise at your words. “Are you asking me out on a date Porsche?” He chuckles. Your blush deepens, and now covers your entire face. “As soon as I get back home, I’ll call you”_

“Roger, hi! Are you back already?” You grin, your heart pounding in your chest heavily, as you bring you thumb up to your mouth, biting your nail anxiously.

Roger takes in a sharp breath. “Porsche… I’m sorry, I’m not home but, I need to see you.” He pleads, and you can almost imagine how tight his grip must be on the phone right now. He sounds stressed, and tired, and if that’s anything to go by, then his knuckles must be turning white as he holds the receiver.

You bite down hard on your nail, feeling it break in your mouth, and you gag slightly as you spit the nail out, cringing. “Rog, you’re in Wales… On a farm in Wales. That’s like, a three hour drive.” You gasp out, giving Courtney a desperate look, she laughs in reply, shrugging as she walks back into the kitchen.

“I know, trust me I know. I’ve only just convinced myself not to walk back to London to see you after realising how long it would take me.”

“You were going to walk back to London, just to see me?” You whisper, feeling your heart swell with love for the stupid blonde on the other end of the line.

“The thought did occur to me.”

“Bloody hell Roger… I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You sigh, as you hang up the phone, turning on the spot and heading back to your bedroom to get changed.

Within the hour, you’re on your way to Wales, a map on the dashboard so you can find Rockfield Farm once you arrive.  As you drive along the driveway leading to the farm, you sing along to Life on mars, keeping your eyes peeled for Roger, a part of you worried that he may jump out in front of the moving car. “But the film is a saddening bore, for she’s lived it ten times or more…” You sing out, as you pull up the handbrake of you Pontiac Firebird, the gravel road covering the blue paint in dust.

Winding the window down, you rest your arm over the door, sliding your sunglasses on top of your head. Roger must still be inside, you conclude as you gaze around the farm buildings, seeing no signs of movement. You take the key out of the ignition, shutting the door behind you as your boots crunch along the ground. You fold your arms across your chest, hugging the fur collar coat further around your body to fight off the chill in the air. As you walk along the road, you hear voices yelling, and you can only assume Roger is involved. Picking up your pace, you open the wooden door to a farm house, the voices echoing loudly within the old house.

“Roger, you can’t stay in there forever!” One voice cries out, followed by an exasperated sigh.

“You haven’t even recorded the song yet! It can’t be the B side to anything!” A second voice groans.

“Not that it should be the B side!” A third interrupts. “What does it even mean, when I’m holding your wheel?”

Your eyebrows raise as you step into a bedroom, where three of the members of Queen are stood, all facing a closet. A grin creeps across your lips as you recognize the words just spoken, you had said them many times before. “All I hear is your gear…”

Three heads whip around to face you blindingly fast, grins appearing on all three faces, as you hear shuffling from the closet.

“What are you doing here Y/N?” Freddie grins, as he hugs you tightly, you wave over his shoulder at Brian and John.

“I called her.” Roger mutters, as he crawls out of the closet, glaring at his bandmates. He walks over to you, moving Freddie out of the way with a hand on his shoulder. “Fuck Porsche, I’ve missed you.” He practically moans, hi lips gravitating to yours. You meet his with an eagerness only made possible from not having seen each other in weeks.

“Porsche? I swear Tim used to talk about some chick named Porsche... Brian mutters in the background, squinting his eyes in thought.

John looks at him with a confused expression. “Some guys at my college used to talk about someone called Porsche, who was good for relieving stress.”

Freddie remains silent, listening to the guitarist and bassist discuss their theories, he was forming one of his own as he watched his drummer make out with Y/N.

“Let’s get out of here.” Roger breathes out, his lips parting from yours, both now red and swollen. You gaze up at him, pulling your keys out from your coat pocket, jangling them in the air.

“I’ll take you anywhere.” You take his hand, pulling him out of the bedroom and down the stairs of the house. “So how come John was quoting me?” You ask, turning to face him as you walk out of the door, walking backwards towards your car, trusting Roger to be your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“When I’m holding your wheel, all I hear is your gear.” You recite back to him, lifting an eyebrow in challenge at him. “That’s what everyone had to say when they wanted my services. I’d say the line about the wheel, and if they replied with the gear thing, I knew what they were after.”

Roger has the decency to blush, remembering all the times he had said those exact words to you. “Well, I did say I was writing a song about you.” He shrugs, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“I didn’t realise you would be quoting me… Everyone at our college, and any college near us will know it’s about me, you know that right?” You laugh, as he steers you to the right a little bit, making sure you avoid stepping in a pothole.

“That’s true, but I’m the one who wrote it, not them.” He grins proudly, squeezing your hand just that little bit tighter.

Your smile grows wider as you process his words, there are worse things than having people recognise you through song lyrics you suppose. “So what was the business about in the closet, and why were you so dramatic this morning?”

“Oh. That.” Roger swallows audibly, and your brows crease into a frown. “Look, when I called you this morning, it was because I had just shown the boys the lyrics for your song. I’ve called it, I’m in love with my car, and of course none of them fucking understood that it was all a goddamned metaphor! That I’m not in fact interested in fucking my car. So, after that argument I called, to remind myself of why I wrote the song to begin with! The closet thing, well Fred’s written this bloody amazing piece that we want to release as the single. I put my hand up, saying I wanted my song to be the B side. None of the others liked that idea, because as I said before, they don’t understand it, so we got into a screaming match, and I locked myself in the closet.”

You stop walking, blinking up at the man before you. “Bloody hell, you’re so dramatic Rog. The song though, my song. Have you recorded it yet? I thought Brian said you hadn’t.” You ask, you’ll get to the whole, love part soon.

“Well, no. No, we haven’t. I only finished the lyrics last night, and most of today has been arguing and sitting in a closet.” He replies sheepishly. You rub your free hand to your temples, feeling a headache coming on.

You want to be annoyed at him for being so over the top, and for not taking a moment to cool off before flying off the handle, though that’s all part of Roger’s appeal, his hot headedness. “Come on then. I didn’t drive here for nothing, I’ve missed you.”

Roger perks up instantly, pulling your hand so you step closer to him, feeling his body warmth wrap around you. “I’ve missed you too.” He whispers against your ear, your hair tickling his lip as he leans over you, the smell of smoke on his breath.

You walk a few minutes in silence, unlocking your car and sliding into the driver’s seat, as Roger follows into the passenger side. The engine purrs to life, the tyres crunching along the gravel, as you speed away from the farm. Neither of you noticed the three figures watching from the makeshift studio, fogging up the glass with their breath.

“Do you think Y/N is the metaphor?” John queries aloud.

“If she isn’t, then Roger needs psychological help for his car fascinations.” Brain sighs, watching until your car is out of sight.

 

You speed along the roads, paying little to no mind to the pedestrians around, you were on a mission, a mission to find somewhere quiet for just the two of you. You both ignore the yells from a man on a bike, apparently you were driving too close to him, Roger flipped him the bird as you left the cyclist in the dust. Roger hums along to the radio, and you tap your fingers against the steering wheel to the beat, it’s a song you haven’t heard before, but it’s catchy enough to get stuck in your head. You read the signs as they appear along the road, waiting for one to jump out at you, you don’t know Wales, and Roger only knows Rockfield farm, so he wasn’t much help in finding someplace secluded. Finally, a sign appears, directing you to a lake, with a shrug, you take the turn and travel along a winding road.

You pull the car up on the grass surrounding the lake, no one else is around which is perfect, and you can’t lie, the view of the lake is rather stunning, though you’ll have time to take in the sights later. Turning in your seat, you find Roger already watching you, lust obvious in his eyes. Your fingers comb your hair back, knocking your sunglasses off in the process.

Roger is reaching for you, having reclined his seat to its full potential, just waiting for you to join him on it. “Next time, I promise we’ll do this on a bed.” He offers with a light chuckle, though you know he’s being serious, you feel the same way.

You shuck off your coat, throwing it onto the back seat behind you, the soft material sliding down the leather seats. “I would like that, a lot actually.” You murmur, as you press closer to him, hands resting on his thighs. He nudges your nose with his, before locking his lips with yours, the feeling of how perfectly his lips fit with yours is something you would never grow tired of. You’re straddling his thighs, as Roger wriggles further back on his seat, leaning his back down se he could get more comfortable. Your fingers make quick work of unbuckling his belt, next come the button and zipper on his jeans, allowing for his growing erection to tent his boxers, no longer confined by his tight pants. You hear him take a sharp intake of breath, and you grin knowing that only you can make him fell this good.

Gently, your fingertips brush over his tented underwear, feeling him grow beneath your touch. You slip your hand down the waist band, resting one hand against his hip, as your other wraps around his engorged cock. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.” You whisper, as you slowly, and carefully begin moving your hand up and down his length, starting slowly as you allow him to grow to his full length. His breathing is picking up pace, just as you do with your hand, rubbing faster as you watch his face for his reactions, though by this stage you know what he likes, and how to get him to breaking point. As you reach the head of his cock, your rub your thumb in a circular motion, and his body jerks bellow you, his eyes falling closed. Your hand twists back and forth up his cock, as Roger grunts deeply, his body continues to shudder bellow you. He’s getting close, you can hear it in the way his moans cut off midway through. Your free hand joins your working one, as the right reaches the head the left starts at the base, “Fuck, Y/N!” He cries out, as he reaches climax. You allow your hands to slow down, keeping him stimulated as his cum leaks from the head, his voice coming out deep and guttural as he moans.

You pull your hand away from his cock, and it comes away sticky with his spunk. His eyes open slowly, remaining half hooded, and there’s a look of pure pleasure there. You grin down at him, raising your hand to your mouth, tracing your tongue over your palm and licking off his sum, next you slide each finger into your mouth, releasing each with a ‘pop!’

Roger moves beneath you, raising his hands to your hips after you clean your fingers, savouring the salty taste of him. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that right?”

“So I’ve been told. Numerous times by you if I remember correctly.” You wink, as you pull his boxers further down his thighs. He makes quick work of undoing your denim shorts, and you shimmy them down to your ankles, leaving them at his feet. He pulls you further up his legs, until you’re back to straddling his waist. His fingers dig into your hips deeply, leaving nail marks in your soft skin. Leaning down, your lips meet his once more, your tongues dancing with one another. He massages small circles into your hips, as he slowly, guides his cock inside your dripping sex. You had been waiting for this moment for weeks, and the moment you got in your car this morning to get here, all you could think about was the reward.

You gasp out as he presses himself into you, your back arching you away from his lips, throwing your head back as you sigh in pleasure. “Fuck… I love you.” You gasp, as his hips buck into yours, pressing himself deep within your sex. Your hands grip his shoulders, as you find a rhythm together, hips thrusting against one another, it was a familiar dance, one that you knew all too well. You had your pace down pat at this stage, not too fast, and not too slow, just right. Roger lifts a hand away from your waist, cupping the back of your neck and pulling your lips back down to his, allowing his fingers to tangle in your hair. His lips meet yours with an urgency that hadn’t been there before, while his hips buck beneath you.

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, as you pull away panting, your thrusting becomes more erratic as you both climb higher to your breaking point. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, not caring that you may leave bruises, all you could think about in this moment was Roger and the extreme amount of pleasure coursing through your body. He’s thrusting deeper now, practically lifting himself off the seat as he rams into you, and then, you feel an explosion of warmth burst into you, and you scream out, just as Roger cries your name. Your sex clamps around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth as your own orgasm washes over you, your mind going blank in the waves of euphoria.

You collapse against Roger after a few minutes, no longer able to support yourself sitting up. His arms wrap around you instinctively, pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head. “I meant that.” He purrs, as you gaze up at him, lust hazed eyes meeting yours.

“Meant what?” You ask curiously, as you slowly push yourself away, grabbing a rag from the backseat to clean yourselves up as best you can.

“What I said about loving you. I really do.” He smiles, as you glide the rag down his thighs and stomach.

You can’t help but grin, a blush creeping along your already flushed skin. “I know you do, which is exactly why we’re using a bed next time.” You giggle, as he smacks your ass playfully.

“If you play your cards right, I may even take you to dinner first.”

“Sounds like a date.” You confirm, as you manoeuvre yourself to reapply your shorts, combing your hair out with your fingers as you sit back in the driver’s seat. You don’t wait for Roger to get himself dressed again, instead you just drive, knowing he’ll be able to get his jeans back on by himself.

The drive back to the farm is quiet, the radio making the only noise through the car. You kept replaying Roger’s words in your head. Did he mean it, was he going to take you out? Or was it all just talk?

You chew on your lip as you drive, Roger noticing the nervous tick when he gazes over to you, with a smile he rests his hand against your thigh. “One day, we’re going to tell our kids about how we met.” He smirks, and you gasp, smacking his bicep

“What kids?”

“This is all in the future, you know, after our dinner and bed date.” He chuckles, watching a small smile tug at the corner of your lips. The idea of kids had never really occurred to you, but thinking about miniature Roger’s running around was rather appealing.

“We will have to edit the story a fair bit.” You muse aloud. “At least while they’re young, maybe just stick with the version of, we met at college?”

“We could always just play them my song for you on repeat, until they finally understand it?” He suggests, and you laugh deeply at that. If the band couldn’t figure out the meaning behind the lyrics, what hope did your spawn have?

The rest of the drive is kept busy with talks of the future, a future that up until recently hadn’t included Roger, though you always knew your life plans were subject to change. You pull your car up out the front of the house you had collected Roger from, and he steps out, turning to your window and leaning through. “I’ll call you the minute I’m back in London, and then we’ll have that dinner.” He grins, pressing a kiss to your lips once more.

“I’ll be waiting.” You whisper, your lips brushing against his as you speak. “Now get in there, record my song, and make everyone remember me!” You grin, as Roger steps away, giving you a wink before turning towards the house. As he walks away, you drive off down the road, a smile plastered to your lips as you go.

Roger walks into the kitchen, where today’s whole ordeal had all started. Brian is cooking something on the stove, John rummaging through the fridge, and Freddie drinking a cup of tea at the counter. They all look up at him as he enters the room, grins and their faces.

“So Rog, tell us.” Brian says smugly, as he turns the heat down on the stove.

“Should we keep the title as I’m in love with my car?” John pipes up, as he closes the fridge door.

“Or should it be I’m in love with my Porsche?” Freddie smirks, and Roger groans, turning on his heel and walking back out the way he came, listening to the echoes of laughter from his bandmates. Well, at least they get the metaphor now…


End file.
